Impermanence (無常)
by AnalogToothBrush
Summary: He was told the blooming of cherry blossoms represented the ephemeral nature of life. It was fitting, considering his existence and how briefly canon lasted because of it. {Male!Sakura}{OC}{Reincarnation} (UNDER REWRITE)
1. no petals - Transient Cherry Blossoms

**Disclaimer:** The series of _Naruto_ belongs to Masashi Kishimoto. I only own the plot of this piece of the fiction and my own original characters.

* * *

 **Impermanence (** **無常** **)**

* * *

 **Transient Cherry Blossoms**

* * *

"Do you know why I named you after cherry blossoms?"

"Because of my hair," he snapped, giving her a _look_.

She saw his opinion of her lowering in a sharp glare. She knew this because it was an expression often leveled upon his father, a man fond of littering his speech with stupid puns more so than common sense.

She fought a scowl.

How he managed to become a chūnin, she would never understand.

Her thoughts quickly shifted at a scoff.

"Are you finished yet?"

The prickle of irritation was momentarily forgotten by swelling affection and niggling worry.

The rational side of her disapproved of his audacious disrespect. Her son wouldn't make it far in the world with no regard for others—there were many that would take offense simply at the haughty way he held himself.

But, while she did her best to provide structure and discipline, the foolish part of her thought his state of perpetual disdain was adorable.

She loved the way his little snout wrinkled as his eyebrows drew together, and she treasured how his mouth curled into a snarl much too cute to be intimidating. She tried to cling for as long as she can to the precious visage, but his abrasive words never let her savor it for long.

How bittersweet.

" _No_ , I _wasn't_ finished," the woman replied pointedly. "It was actually for an entirely different reason."

"Such as?"

"It was because we thought you were going to be a girl."

". . . What?"

Had she been any less observant, she would have missed how his fingertips hesitated in turning a page of his book, or she would have overlooked the muscles of his shoulders and neck tensing.

The fleeting crack in his impassive countenance comforted her immensely; there was indeed something that was able to expose an albeit momentary weakness in him.

She did little in hiding the mischievous smirk that wormed onto her features.

"They were _ninety-nine_ percent sure you would be a girl," she hummed lightly, rubbing a mole on his ear lobe. "But, the day you were born, we were all surprised when a cute little boy came out instead."

"The dresses in the storage room were mine. I should've known," he sighed, moving from her touch.

Laughter bubbled out of her at the mention.

"We were going to name you Ajisai for being our pride and joy, but I ended up blurting out Sakura when they asked."

He looked unimpressed. Bored.

He wanted her to be quiet, she knew.

But she couldn't.

"There was a time of being so _certain_ of everything, but it vanished the moment you were born. And I remembered that my mother would always tell me that life was inconstant. _Transient_."

He lifted a brow, head cocking to the side.

"The awareness of that brevity is what cherry blossoms are said to represent. _This_ is what you were named for, Sakura."

He stared at her face, searching for something. But his hunt must have been unfruitful, for he rolled his eyes in what could only be annoyance before dropping his attention back to the manga clutched in his hands.

He probably thought everything she'd told him was little more than superstitious, philosophical mumbo jumbo.

She could only give a tiny smile in return, unable to find it in herself to be angry.

Because she thought much the same when she was younger.

Mebuki hoped he'd keep her words in mind, though.

* * *

 **.**

* * *

 **A/N:** First off, I'd like to deeply apologize to those reading and waiting for my other two series. The truth of the matter is that both of them are undergoing _massive_ reconstruction due to a combination of writers' block, procrastination and constantly shifting interests.

In the meantime, this story is here—but it is meant to challenge me as a writer more so than anything else. I _do_ want it to be enjoyable, but the main four things I am aiming to accomplish with this story is: a) veering from canon as early as possible; b) developing the characters over the course of the story; c) subverting some of the clichés of _Naruto_ SI stories; and d) actually finishing the damn thing.

I may or may not accomplish any of those. But I will definitely try!

 **Chapter Word Count: 577**

 **Story Word Count:** **577**

 **EDIT: 10/31/2017 – Structural editing. Addition of information.**


	2. 1 petal - Remembered Aster

**Disclaimer:** The series of _Naruto_ belongs to Masashi Kishimoto. I only own the plot of this piece of the fiction and my own original characters.

* * *

 **Impermanence (** **無常** **)**

* * *

"When I had journeyed half of our life's way,

I found myself within a shadowed forest,

for I had lost the path that does not stray."

—Dante Alighieri, _The Inferno_ , Canto I, lines 1-3

* * *

 **Remembered Aster**

* * *

A drop of crimson splashed onto the paper, marring the otherwise perfect petal of his painted chrysanthemum.

His eyebrows furrowed at the sight of it.

It shouldn't have been there—he hadn't been the one to put it there. And he didn't even have any red paint to use, thanks to his table neighbor stealing it from him.

Glancing over furtively, he saw that Hibachi still had the pilfered, unopened container placed strategically out of reach to make retrieving it improbable.

Sakura tugged at a lock of hair near the nape of his neck.

Idly, he noted the red splotch couldn't possibly be from the boy with sticky fingers, but the discovery was overshadowed by childishly malevolent thoughts.

The beanie-wearing boy had _always_ been like that. For as long as Sakura could remember, Hibachi relished in swiping things that did not belong to him, acting as if they _did_ and everyone else was wrong for believing otherwise. In that respect, the boy was very much like his stepfather—or so his mother and her friends claimed when they were gossiping like clucking hens.

He wanted to insult Hibachi by saying he was no better than his stepfather—because it was common knowledge that the boy bristled at the mere mention of the man—but a quiet murmur of resentment was all the flower boy could muster.

It went unnoticed by all, drowned by the chattering of his classmates.

Sakura dropped his attention back to his ruined picture. He huffed a small grumble of agitation, dipping his paint brush back into the canister of white.

It too him only a few seconds to fix the mistake.

He admitted it was terrible.

But the slightly pink petal was a lesser evil when compared to the blight of scarlet that would have inevitably drawn the fierce scrutiny and mocking laughter of all the looked upon it.

His fingers toyed with hair tickling his ear as he pushed away from his desk to turn in his sub par project. He was sure Suzuki-sensei would want to pin it up, but he wondered if he could convince her to let him keep it to throw away later.

There was a hushed giggle as he moved.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a glimpse of red-stained fingertips. Though he tried not to, his gaze briefly fixed with that of his other table neighbor, Ami.

He fought the urge to cringe.

Ami was too dramatic for his tastes. Anything negligible would be turned significant whenever and wherever the girl was concerned, solely for the sake of having all eyes on her. Any attention was good enough for her, even if it meant dragging another through the mud with her. Usually, _he_ was the one targeted by Ami—never did she run out of snide comments about his tresses or his forehead.

 _It must be hereditary_ , he thought, _because, while her mom's brilliant onstage, she's a total bitch offstage._

Another splotch of crimson plopped onto the drawing.

The flower boy made a noise of annoyance in his throat, lifting his head and opening his mouth to curse the infuriating girl.

He was interrupted, however, by the attention hog squealing, " _Gross_!"

He blinked at her, both bemused and embarrassed.

If there was one thing he could say about himself, it was that he was _not_ disgusting. In fact, he was likely the cleanest boy in the entire school.

But, once again, the rude retort he had ready dissipated into nothingness, leaving him feeling ashamed for having even left home that morning.

Suzuki-sensei rushed to her side.

"Ami-chan, what's wrong!?"

"Sakura is _bleeding_ out of his _nose_!"

He felt the stare of many land on his diminutive form, but he didn't acknowledge them.

The flower boy wiped under his nose, pulling away when he felt wetness. He stared blankly at the smear of blood tainting his fingers, completely clueless as to why such a thing was happening to him.

Then, it clicked.

And, as the world began to tilt and darkness lapped at the corners of his vision, it was in that exact moment that Haruno Sakura remembered.

* * *

 **(** **無常** **)**

* * *

With the chalk white characters 内なるサクラ etched on his too big forehead, the boy sat there in the void with knobbly knees tucked beneath his chin.

" **Why is this happening to me!?"**

Nails dug into the palms of his hands as he whispered, "Shut up."

He ignored him.

" **What am I supposed to do!?"**

A deep scowl distorted his cherubic features as he growled, irritated, "Just shut up."

" **It isn't supposed to be like this!"**

" _Stop_. _Talking_."

" **Momma! Papa! Where are you!? Help me!** _ **Please**_ **!"**

"Shut up! _Now_!"

" **Please make it stop! Make it go away,** _ **shannarō**_ **!**

With that final wail of despair, the thin thread of control snapped.

From the top of his lungs, he screamed, "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! SHUT! UP! SHUT! UP! SHUT! UP! SHUT! UP! SHUT! UP!"

In a flash, quivering fingers weaved into curls, tightly anchoring themselves there. He tugged, yanked and pulled until strands were practically ripped from the root. His chest heaved as he desperately tried to catch the breath that refused to be caught and calm the heart that denied to be placated. His vision swam and his head spun, but the emptiness remained still.

After a tense pause, he hesitantly sniveled, **"W-what am I going t-t-to do? What am I-I** _ **supposed**_ **to do?"**

" _I_ will take care of everything," he answered lowly through clenched teeth.

" **H-how?"**

"I know the plan. I just have to follow it." His words were stern, clipped and offered no room for argument. "No matter what, I just have to follow the plan—canon. I just have to follow canon, and everything will be fine."

The boy merely curled further in on himself, refusing to give him neither a positive nor a negative response.

Sakura glowered at him.

* * *

 **(** **無常** **)**

* * *

A short groan left his lips, and his eyelashes fluttered as consciousness returned.

An alarmed gasp was heard, succeeded by a breathy, "Sakura?"

His head lolled weakly to the side, and he eyed the awaiting woman warily.

"Mom?" he ventured quietly once his brain properly calibrated itself.

Her face brightened at his hoarse whisper. "That's right, sweetie. Mommy is _right_ here."

"Mom, uh . . . What happened to me?"

"You had a mild nosebleed during class, and you passed out when you saw it." Her voice was light with relief as she stroked his brow. "I would have been scared too if I had started bleeding like that."

Ah yes, he remembered Ami tarnishing his masterpiece for laughs. The thought of it still irked him horribly, and he was further annoyed his dramatic reaction would only serve as ammo for the brat.

But that wasn't what was important.

What _was_ important was Sakura was supposed to be dead. Yet dead he no longer was.

Instead, he existed in a fictional world that should not exist. Even worse, he happened to be placed into the role of a very particular character—a main character that originally happened to be a girl and _not_ a boy.

 **This is so** _ **wrong**_ **, shannarō!**

His breathing hitched, but he managed to quell the burgeoning panic attack.

Stop overreacting, he snarled to himself. Just follow canon, and everything will be fine.

"Dinner should be ready but try to relax in the meantime," Mebuki chuckled, looking away. "It was just a little nosebleed, but I know firsthand that you can't be too careful."

"Right," he muttered, stare distant.

She giggled, kissing his cheek, before she said, "I can tell when I'm starting to bother you, so I'll leave you be for a while. Just yell if you need me."

His gaze focused when she rose from his side, and his eyes followed her when he noticed an oddness in her gait. Mebuki moved with a slight but noticeable limp, obviously favoring her left leg over her right. An old injury that caused her tuck away her headband, he could recollect being told. It was also one that still bothered her, if the rigidity of her limbs and the slow, tentative steps were of any indication.

Before he could stop himself, he blurted, "Is it cloudy outside?"

". . . A little bit, yeah," she sighed, tired, as she slipped from his room.

The flower boy stared after her, thoughtful.

He shrugged shortly thereafter.

The state of being in which the Haruno family existed was irrelevant. He only needed them alive as insignificant characters for canon to be preserved.

* * *

 **(** **無常** **)**

* * *

Kizashi grinned at him. "Hey, kiddo. Come to see your old man before he goes off on a mission?"

"How are you even a chūnin?" The flower boy questioned incredulously.

"Well, I took a test when I was younger, and _someone_ found me competent enough to be promoted." The man turned back towards the mirror, smile faltering as he zipped up his flak jacket. "I mean, I know I'm nothing special, but I can get the job done."

The mental cogs turned furiously as he hopelessly attempted to find a memory that equated Kizashi was equated with efficiency. When the search turned empty as he knew it would, the flower boy responded in the only way he possibly could:

"You shouldn't be a chūnin."

And he shouldn't have been.

A hint of exasperation pinched his face as the man laughed out, "Look, I know you and your mother are worried for me, but can we stop with the negativity all the time? It really isn't helping my self-esteem, you know."

His eyes narrowed in distaste as he watched Kizashi holster shuriken and kunai on his right thigh; secure scrolls in the pouches of his vest; and shove tags, wire and makibishi into his pack.

The man looked so professional and practiced that it made curiosity bubble up within the flower boy.

He wanted to know why Kizashi was chosen for a promotion. He wanted to know what kinds of abilities he used. He wanted to know what kind of missions Kizashi often partook. He wanted to know what kinds of people he worked with most. He want to know how the rest of the shinobi force felt about him and if the Third Hokage himself knew the man by name.

He wanted to know _everything_.

And that bothered Sakura.

He _didn't_ want Kizashi going on missions. He _didn't_ want Kizashi to be capable. He _didn't_ want Kizashi to be of notable standing with anyone. He _didn't_ want to know about the Kizashi that he didn't already know about.

Haruno Kizashi was supposed to be an inadequate genin, and Sakura wanted— _needed_ —him that way.

Twirling a curl around a finger, Sakura tsked brusquely, "Whatever."

 _They aren't even that important_ , he reasoned. _It shouldn't be that big of an issue._

"Such a cheeky kid you are," Kizashi snorted, scratching his chin. "Well, I'm gonna make like a _tree_ and _leaf_ before you _sap_ anymore happiness out of me, kiddo."

"I _hate_ you."

Kizashi only beamed, ruffling the child's hair.

* * *

 **(** **無常** **)**

* * *

There were advantages to being Haruno Sakura.

Being in her place meant he had the perfect position to observe the unfurling of events. It also meant that he would have an easier time adjusting certain elements if they were to stray. Another benefit—which admittedly stemmed more from her faulty characterization—was that canonical Haruno Sakura was more of a supporting character than she was an actual main character, meaning that the bulk of the danger would be relegated to the shoulders of his future teammates. And he would be lying if he said he wasn't excited at the prospect of having super strength—the mere thought of it made the flower boy incredibly giddy.

But, just as there were positives, there were negatives as well.

There was the friendship, subsequent rivalry and then mending of a broken bond with Yamanaka Ino. He didn't like Ino—she was actually one of his least favorite kunoichi—so going out of his way to seek her out was a thorn in his side. If he were to go completely by canon, another obstacle was that the two girls had met during kunoichi classes—courses he had no reason or interest in taking.

Then, following the Academy, a large portion of his genin days were to be spent as a liability rather than an asset. The shadows of her teammates were practically inescapable and, depending on who was asked, it was one she never did fully slip free from. Automatic regeneration and amplified techniques were indeed powerful boons, but chakra-enhanced strength paled in comparison to the feats accomplished with ninjutsu.

Despite all of that, however, the main obstacle of being Sakura was her relationship with Uchiha Sasuke.

Being Sakura meant fawning over the brooding Uchiha, something the flower boy was reluctant to do.

In the first place, he wasn't fond of most characters in the series—Sasuke, unfortunately, happened to be one of the majority. Furthermore, the flower girl and the fan boy were to eventually wed and have a child together—a daughter important and popular enough to warrant her own manga segment.

If Sasuke remained as absent in their future as he was in the manga, the flower boy could potentially tolerate being married to the Uchiha. Having a child for him, on the other hand, was something Sakura was fairly certain he could not achieve as he had boy anatomy that was unable to carry out the functions girl anatomy could.

His plan was to follow canon, and it was the optimal course of action for him.

But it seemed that there were some details of his strategy that he had yet to fully iron out.

Grasping at his locks, he asked Mebuki, "Mom, how can I have a baby?"

She inclined her head, voice distracted. "What did you say?"

"I know how babies are made, don't worry," he supplied, waving away her confusion. "Traditionally, that is."

"Well, there's adoption. Also surrogate preg—wait a second." She stopped, perplexed. She then demanded, "Where did you find out how babies are made?"

"Kasumi and Fuki were talking about it one day during lunch, and Suzuki-sensei gave an explanation when the rest of the class bothered her about it," he answered truthfully before proceeding to lie, "To make sure she wasn't feeding me rubbish, I looked it up the last time we were at the bookstore."

"How are babies made then, Mr. Smarty-Pants?" His mother looked unconvinced of his half-truth.

He scoffed, beginning, "A male and a female have se—"

"Ugh, never mind. Don't finish that sentence." The woman closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Sakura, if you know how babies are made, why ask me how you can have one?"

"I just wanted feedback."

"Right," she sighed, turning back to dish duty.

He changed topics.

"Mom, can I start attending the Academy next year?"

Welcoming the shift in conversation, Mebuki responded, "I thought you wanted to be a manga artist."

"I do want to be a manga artist, but only once I retire," he admitted. "I want to be a part of the Medic Corps."

"Really? Then, I hope you realize that being in the medical field requires a lot of time, dedication and, most of all, passion. If you're only interested in money or employment stability, then you really shouldn't bother entering."

"Yes, I know, Mom. I wouldn't have brought it up if I hadn't weighed my options," he groaned. "I've been thinking about this for a while."

She wiped her hands on her apron before turning towards him, a tender smile stretching her laugh lines. "Well, regardless of you want to do, I'll support you all the way. If you want to go to the Academy, then fine. We'll just have to talk to your father about it, but I'm pretty sure he'll agree. I mean, how can he not when you want to help others?"

Sakura nodded in satisfaction, leaning back in his seat, as he murmured mutely, "Everything I plan to do is to help _everyone_."

* * *

 **.**

* * *

 **A/N:** I _really_ dislike writing beginnings. Trying to introduce the characters while finding a balance of what and what not to reveal is always such a hassle—particularly when through the limited, biased eyes of another. That said, I hope the glimpse into the workings of our main character was good enough to get at least a decent base understanding of him.

I have to say, I'm quite astounded but incredibly overjoyed at the reception this story has gotten from a mere prologue. I thank each and every last of my viewers for taking time to just glance at this story, and I would like to give a special thanks to my first five reviewers: **areaualicene** , **lizyeh2000** , **TheFinnQuinn** , **DarkDust27** and **NatNicole**.

Also yes, **lizyeh2000** , his name is still Sakura. Initially, his name was going to be Sakurai—note the "I" at the end _—_ and, throughout the story, there would be a running gag of him constantly being referred to as Sakura. I scrapped the idea as I felt it would come off as too forced rather than humorous. Plus, after researching cherry blossoms in Japanese culture and planning the major theme behind the story, I felt keeping the name the same was the best choice overall.

But enough of the author's note. I am off to play more _Pokémon Moon_.

 **Chapter Word Count: 2690**

 **Story Word Count: 3267**

 **EDIT: 10/31/2017 – Structural editing. Addition of information.**


End file.
